I can't reach you
by anewkindofthrill
Summary: Some years after Ls death. Yagami Raito thinks about what he motivates him to do his job; being the god of the new world. And what hís biggest motivation has been, something... someone he wouldn't be able to reach ever again. One shot. Slightly L/Raito.


**A/N**

Hello everybody, this is the first story I post on this site, but not the first I've ever wrote. I translated it from German to English since my native language is German, so please forbear with some mistakes. I'm trying hard to learn English so that I will be able to speak it as good as German some day. If you find any mistakes, please mention them if you're reviewing. I'd love to read some of your opinions to this one-shot.

Rated T for language. Raito's POV.

Enjoy! (:

I can't reach you

Some day I noticed that I didn't remember his face.

I had had a bad day and when I came home, I was just glad that Misa was currently making a movie, Ryuuku being with her out of necessity, since she was the owner of his Death Note, so that I could be on my own for a moment.

The tests of character before the acceptance at the police were ridicilous, but the physical training has been pretty hard.

So I went to the bathroom to get a shower, staying there a bit longer than usual to relax my tensed up muscles, closing my eyes and thinking.

I thought how boring life would be without the Death Note.

Well, I wouldn't be stuck up with Misa, but apart from that, everything would be like it is now. The training for the police formation, the studying, the success... There would be only a lack of spice, there wouldn't be the taste which makes my life worth to live.

The augustness, the utter difference between a normal man and me, the victory over the boredom, the victory I owed being allowed to become the god of the new world.

It required a lot of me, unbelievable efforts, without ever being really rewarded - beside by "my little moments", like I liked them to call.

Watching pro-Kira-demonstrations on TV. Reading the rapidly decreasing percentage of criminal activities all over the world. Politicians, tycoons and the other mighty ones of the world avowing themselves bit by bit clearly to Kira.

These were the occasions which caused me goosebumps, which made my life brilliant and not just barren and boring like all the other ones' lifes. Which agitated me. Which motivated me to continue with it, all along, to never stop, to always want to be the best one, the illustrious one, the unique one.

But all of these "little occasions" weren't nothing - _nothing - _compared to the memory of the "big event".

_My combat. My horror. My victory. _

_My triumph. _

The absolute triumph.

I went out of the bathroom and sat down on my couch, dressed in my most comfortable clothes, a worn out pair of much too big sweat pants and a white longsleeve.

You could call it a trophy.

I didn't let anyone see me like this, not even Misa or Ryuuku, no, these moments belonged to me, just to me.

I searched through my commemoration on purpose, searched for the memory of _him, _looked for it and finally found it.

I could remember everything so clearly, my feelings from this time, in which I hadn't remembered me being Kira, when the memories had come back and me becoming aprubtly aware of the fact that my ingenious plan had been working out and finally the moment in which he had fell in my arms onto the ground and had died.

The perfect ending of my problem, the perfect solution.

But suddenly I couldn't remember his facial expression when he had become aware of... Why not, shit, this one thing which made my triumph taste so sweet, this wild despair, this frustration, this cognition...

I still knew full well that his eyes had been almost black and weirdly big, how his pale skin had shimmered in the light of the computer screens, that his pitch-black hair had had that strange shade of blue in this light.

I still knew that he had always eaten only candy, how he had smelled, how he had dressed, how he had used to sit, damn, I could even remember his voice!

After all, he had been something like the most important person in the world for me for a certain amount of time, the most interesting person, the only person who had been able to compete against me.

And the only person to who I could feel something like friendship in times of not being Kira.

And now _I couldn't remember these delicately chiselled features anymore. _

It worked me over terribly. I haven't been able to sleep for days.

Some day - I knew my chances to find something were practically zero - I jumped at the few things I had been able to rescue out of the Kira-investigation-headquarters before he could delete or destoy everything. In the box, there were some files, full of his and mine accurate, hardly distinguishable handwritings, some floppies with equity prices of the Yotsuba Group, even a small candy wrapping (I gaped at it shortly like it was something strange from a faraway planet, I let it disappear in my fist and then I put it carefully in my trouser pocket) and... _a copy of a recording from the observation camera. _

I had copied it to practise for the future how to see everything on a recording of a observation camera like he did, even when its quality isn't perfect.

Hastily I stuffed the cassette in our cassette recorder (I've always been a bit conservative and clinged to my belongings) and I fumbled for the remote-control with trembling hands.

I didn't know exactly myself why it was getting me down so much, why I had to see his face at all costs, because the feeling of triumph in my faceless memories was indeed a bit debilitated because of the lack of his features, but still there. And I possessed enough other sources of motivation.

Anyway, I almost crushed the small black thing in my hand by pressing the start-button.

And there we were.

Ryuuzaki was currently hunching over my shoulder, apparently for the sake of looking at my computer screen, holding a lollipop between his stilted fingers.

I could remember perfectly how the sound of his smacking drove me mad.

He didn't look at my screen in the least, however, like I had assumed at that time - he looked at me, just me, without blinking and he _smiled _while I explained so excited gesticulating and not looking at him how the equity prices of some concerns in Japan could be connected with the recent fatalities.

And Ryuuzaki just smiled at me and put his hand on my shoulder.

I gazed at this scene, gazed at his face, I couldn't look away, although everything inside me was screaming, pleading for the pain to stop, for me to turn away from the TV screen, for me to fucking write something into the Death Note so that I didn't have to look at this childlike face that had smiled at me so genuinely.

I had never perceived this smile. Now I did it very well.

It had been only for me, he had given it only to me, it had been his special Raito-kun-expression when everybody else of the team had been absent.

I accroached my knees to my chest, folded my arms on them, in which I hid my face.

__________

And now I'm sitting here. At my place. Even Ryuuku is tired of sitting next to me, he considers the human world much more interesting.

My "colleagues" are sitting everywhere around me and are playing cards or gambling, as usual. Out of boredom. Everyone gripes abour me being a much better Shinigami in my lifetime than today.

Everything I have been doing already for centuries, every day, every hour, every minute is sitting in front of the gate to the afterlife that is located exactly across from the gate to the human world.

The only difference is that you can _use _the gate to the human world. The one to the afterlife not.

And I always, always watch him through the gate, him sitting in our former room, always in the same position which I have taken over from him to sit here on my place, and I observe him, I gaze at him.

Other humans laugh and are happy in their afterlife.

I didn't see L Lawliet smile once since the recording.

It breaks my heart.


End file.
